Raising a Toast to Denial
by OtakuLibra
Summary: In which certain things really need to be said, Jim is in denial about his obvious love for Spock, and Bones decides he may need an alcohol IV drip to survive on board the Enterprise.


**Because I love writing Bones's POV, apparently. This has been sitting around for awhile, so I figured it was time to let it loose upon the universe. So here you are. **

* * *

"You're in love."

And if it wasn't Bones who'd said it—actually, _because _it's Bones that says it—Jim Kirk is more than a little aware of just how damned _weird_ the whole situation is. Because Bones knows him, probably better than anyone. So he should be fully cognizant of one glaringly obvious fact, which has been backed up by years of scientific experimentation and data, a fact that has been proven empirically time and time again.

James T. Kirk doesn't fall in love.

And Jim makes sure to tell him this. Again. As if the doctor didn't know.

McCoy will laugh it off, say it's just the drink talking (he's now on his third glass of bourbon, just enough to give him an excuse). And Jim will ignore it—because really, what else can he do?—and they'll go on like nothing happened.

Except that's not what happens.

"You'd think after all the time I've known you you'd just cut the bullshit. For Chrissake, Jim, you could at least—" he pauses to take a sip of his drink "—_pretend_ to respect my intelligence. I do have _eyes_, you know."

"Or maybe you're just drunk," Jim suggests, hoping his CMO will just agree and change the subject. Talk about something easy, like how nice Lt. Uhura's legs look in the new StarFleet uniforms or how Chris Chapel should really move on from the whole Spock thing. Except that'll probably just bring them back to the topic at hand.

If he wasn't James T. Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise, who absolutely does _not _believe in no-win scenarios, he might have simply resigned himself to the fact that the moment his best friend found something he knew bothered Jim, it was impossible to make him let it go. At least until Jim was sufficiently miserable and/or embarrassed.

But the thing is, he _is_ James T. Kirk, and there's something about him that refuses to give in. Most of the time he's a bit proud of that part of him, but tonight it's just annoying. Because he's known Bones for much too long, and the half of him that isn't gunning for a fight knows exactly what that means. And that half of him _really _just wants him to forget about that whole hero-of-the-'Fleet persona—which is mostly faked anyway—and give in.

Because there's a part of him that wants to tell McCoy he's right.

But it's a deep, dark part of him, a part he's kept expertly buried under a more manageable personality for years. He sees no reason to change it now. Not even for his best friend.

Luckily for him, Bones isn't a dumbass. That, and he loves pushing Jim's buttons almost as much as he likes pushing Spock's.

So, not being a dumbass, Bones rolls his eyes, gesturing with his tumbler as he speaks, "Well maybe I am, but I don't see what that's got to do with the fact that I'm right. And you know it, you stubborn bastard. Think you can pull one over on the good old country doctor." And now Bones is mumbling to himself through another sip of bourbon.

Jim doesn't say anything, so Bones just sighs and rolls his eyes, going on whether Jim likes it or not.

"Look, there ain't no point in hidin' it any longer, Jim-boy," he says, his accent going thick the more he drinks. "So out with it already. Jesus."

Jim's spent this whole time staring at his hands, thinking maybe it's time to actually tell Bones the truth. He already seems to have figured it out—and damn him to hell for that—so what's the harm? Of course, he knows exactly what the harm is, and he's not too keen on that little situation at all.

Because somehow Jim knows that if he says it out loud that will make it real. And there's no way in hell he's ready for that.

When he finally forces himself to meet the bulldozer of a look that he knows from experience is plastered over his friend's face… it isn't there. In fact, McCoy's eyes are softer than Jim's seen since he saw his daughter last year.

"I've seen the way you look at him, Jim," the doctor says before finishing off the last of his drink. "I've known you a long damn time, and I ain't never seen you look at anybody else like _that._ Now you just try to tell me that i'nt love, and I'll jab a hypospray in your jugular so hard you won't be able to move your neck for a week."

Jim gives a defeated sigh almost before he's decided to tell Bones anything. The doctor immediately reaches for the bourbon, pouring himself another glass. "I'm gonna need this," he mutters to himself gruffly.

"I guess I haven't been all that subtle, have I?" Jim asks, and Bones rolls his eyes.

"Jim-boy, there isn't a subtle bone in your body. Trust me. I've had to fix most of 'em."

Jim laughs a little at this, and that gives him time inwardly freak out. Just what the hell does he think he's doing, exactly? Hadn't he just decided that telling Bones _anything_ was a Bad Idea? Where had that thought gone to? Out the window, apparently, as his mouth is ready to keep going, even if the rest of him isn't.

"Okay, okay, fine. So I like him. A lot. I like him a lot. Big deal."

Bones gives him that oh-please-you-expect-me-to-actually-buy-that look Jim hates so much. Bastard. He sighs.

"All right, more than a lot."

"Jim…"

"I'm not going to say it, _mother_. You might as well give it up."

Bones sighs, "Yes, you _are _the most commitment-phobic being in the universe. But come on, Jim, will you quit—"

"Bones, there's nothing else to say, will you just drop it."

"—Faking it already, it's getting really irritating, and you know I know you—"

"Jesus, I'm not faking it will you—"

"—Better than this, and you know it's a little insulting considering I'm your fuckin' _best friend_. And—"

"Okay, goddammit, I love him!"

Silence. Jim is standing now, his hand pressed against the top of McCoy's desk, only now it's more of a support, since he's started shaking uncontrollably. Neither Jim nor McCoy remembers him standing, or the sound of his palm hitting the desk. There's silence, except for the sound of Jim's breathing heavily. Jim can feel his heart beating, blood pounding in his ears. _Dammit. _

Thank God Bones has known Jim Kirk this long. Thank God he knows how to deal with him. Because he doesn't say anything. He doesn't gloat, he doesn't give a smartass comment. He just shuts up. And just for that, Jim thanks whatever deity that Bones is his best friend.


End file.
